Miss you a lot !!!
We used to get back at least a day before the first day of school. And then starts the real trouble, I used to spent around half a day watching Sunday movies and cartoons. Mom will constantly enquire about my homework. I used to tell her that it’s just a small piece of work and I have finished almost all. In the evening I start searching for my books and try to find the small bit of paper where I had written the entire summer home work syllabus. And mostly I don’t get that. Then what?? There is always a way ….I rush to the nearby geeks' house because they usually finish their homework before the summer holidays and they finish the whole syllabus during summer vacation. Completely geek…aren’t they?? It gets almost dark when I get back home. I start doing the big junk of workload one by one. As the night passes it seems that the work is never going to finish and the possibility of getting punished by my teachers seems not at all far fetched. And then comes the real hero of our story, a tiny and most beautiful droplet, whom we popularly call “tears”. Until this moment mom closely watches me, after seeing tears in my eyes the whole scenario changes. She just hugs me and says not to cry. We divide the work among ourselves and start doing the home work one by one. The best thing about this is, her handwriting is exactly like mine, so no problems there. Within couple of hours my home work gets over. And of course my tension gets over. I promise my mom that I won’t repeat this again. But it’s a vicious cycle and the same thing happens when the next summer vacation comes.
And that’s why my mom will never learn how to use a computer. I can bet if she knew how to use it, she would have finished my projects way before deadlines and which would have been completely bug free. Mom you are the best. Miss you a lot. I know you will still find some way to help me out if the hero comes back again.
Mom will never send me any e-mails. Why?? Because she doesn’t know how to use a computer.
I always wanted to teach her,but she never wanted to learn for a simple reason: if she knew how to operate one, she will have to do my projects too.
I regularly visited my native place during summer vacations. And I never took a single study material with me during my trip. Summer vacation for me was an occasion to meet my cousins, to roam around with them, to do backstrokes in the beautiful river, to climb trees, to direct various skits and dramas, to play antakshri and of course to eat those delicious mangoes.
I always wanted to teach her,but she never wanted to learn for a simple reason: if she knew how to operate one, she will have to do my projects too.
I regularly visited my native place during summer vacations. And I never took a single study material with me during my trip. Summer vacation for me was an occasion to meet my cousins, to roam around with them, to do backstrokes in the beautiful river, to climb trees, to direct various skits and dramas, to play antakshri and of course to eat those delicious mangoes.
We used to get back at least a day before the first day of school. And then starts the real trouble, I used to spent around half a day watching Sunday movies and cartoons. Mom will constantly enquire about my homework. I used to tell her that it’s just a small piece of work and I have finished almost all. In the evening I start searching for my books and try to find the small bit of paper where I had written the entire summer home work syllabus. And mostly I don’t get that. Then what?? There is always a way ….I rush to the nearby geeks' house because they usually finish their homework before the summer holidays and they finish the whole syllabus during summer vacation. Completely geek…aren’t they?? It gets almost dark when I get back home. I start doing the big junk of workload one by one. As the night passes it seems that the work is never going to finish and the possibility of getting punished by my teachers seems not at all far fetched. And then comes the real hero of our story, a tiny and most beautiful droplet, whom we popularly call “tears”. Until this moment mom closely watches me, after seeing tears in my eyes the whole scenario changes. She just hugs me and says not to cry. We divide the work among ourselves and start doing the home work one by one. The best thing about this is, her handwriting is exactly like mine, so no problems there. Within couple of hours my home work gets over. And of course my tension gets over. I promise my mom that I won’t repeat this again. But it’s a vicious cycle and the same thing happens when the next summer vacation comes.
And that’s why my mom will never learn how to use a computer. I can bet if she knew how to use it, she would have finished my projects way before deadlines and which would have been completely bug free. Mom you are the best. Miss you a lot. I know you will still find some way to help me out if the hero comes back again.
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Continues...............
School days were the best days of my life. I hardly missed any classes while I was in school. I felt holidays were a lot boring. The daily routine for these 12 years of my academics were consistent.
Mom used to woke me up by 6 o’clock with a bed tea. After that with a tinge of laziness in the air I wandered inside the house trying to figure out what exactly I am supposed to do next. Then strikes the most familiar voice into my ears,” Get dress…hardly 5 minutes left…you will miss your school bus “. And during the next 5 minutes of hurry burry, mom asks a lot of questions, enquiring about my pencil box, handkerchief, Tiffin box, watch and all the items that I used to forget now and then. Sometimes I hurried so much that I hardly listened to what she was saying. The one and the most common question was “Did you take your lunch box?” I always wondered why she is so particular about my lunch. The same question was asked by one more person, any guesses?? My school teacher. Of course in a different style, she used to ask, “You forget to bring your homework notebook…mmm... Did you forget to bring your lunch box today?” But the question was absurd. I was responsible for doing my homework and bringing my homework notebook, it was no way related to my lunch box coz the latter was prepared by my mom and she never forgets that. Not a single day in my life I heard her saying that she forget to prepare food. For me, my lunch box was always there at the table, I never tried to find out how much effort did mom put daily in making those delicious food items.
In school we used to sit in a circle and share our lunch. For the next half an hour we used to discuss a lot of things starting from sports then moving on to movies, cursing our teachers and trying to show how much we knew about each and every topic. But we never appreciated the food that we were having at that moment. For us it was the usual stuff, which we had to put into our mouth while chit chatting. Sometimes I used to forget to have my lunch while doing my homework or assignment work during the lunch break. And the whole lunch was wasted. In a way it was not only the lunch but also the love and affection that I used to waste.
On Sundays, routines were a bit different. I used to wake up by 7 o’clock and the day started with cursing Rangoli for showing black and white songs. After that I again go back to bed and try to finish my remaining dreams. For my surprise, mom never used to tell me what to do on holidays because she thought it was time for me to enjoy a bit after the hectic weekdays. For her the weekdays and weekends were same. No holiday for her, all 365 or sometimes 366 days were working days for her. She never took any rest.
I still remember, whenever I used to go on a “bhuk hartal” because of my stubbornness, she used to cry and used to call me again and again for lunch. Today it’s a Sunday. I am still on bed; I have got no more dreams to finish off. I don’t want to get up. I am feeling too lazy to make the same noodles as breakfast. I will get up by 2 o’clock and probably skip my breakfast and if possible lunch also. Now I know how difficult it is to make different and delicious food daily. I want mom to call me again, but I can’t hear her anymore. I still think all this is a dream and she is still there somewhere around. I close my eyes again and again just finish this never ending dream. I just want to open my eyes and find mom in front of me. I just want to stop dreaming.
Mom used to woke me up by 6 o’clock with a bed tea. After that with a tinge of laziness in the air I wandered inside the house trying to figure out what exactly I am supposed to do next. Then strikes the most familiar voice into my ears,” Get dress…hardly 5 minutes left…you will miss your school bus “. And during the next 5 minutes of hurry burry, mom asks a lot of questions, enquiring about my pencil box, handkerchief, Tiffin box, watch and all the items that I used to forget now and then. Sometimes I hurried so much that I hardly listened to what she was saying. The one and the most common question was “Did you take your lunch box?” I always wondered why she is so particular about my lunch. The same question was asked by one more person, any guesses?? My school teacher. Of course in a different style, she used to ask, “You forget to bring your homework notebook…mmm... Did you forget to bring your lunch box today?” But the question was absurd. I was responsible for doing my homework and bringing my homework notebook, it was no way related to my lunch box coz the latter was prepared by my mom and she never forgets that. Not a single day in my life I heard her saying that she forget to prepare food. For me, my lunch box was always there at the table, I never tried to find out how much effort did mom put daily in making those delicious food items.
In school we used to sit in a circle and share our lunch. For the next half an hour we used to discuss a lot of things starting from sports then moving on to movies, cursing our teachers and trying to show how much we knew about each and every topic. But we never appreciated the food that we were having at that moment. For us it was the usual stuff, which we had to put into our mouth while chit chatting. Sometimes I used to forget to have my lunch while doing my homework or assignment work during the lunch break. And the whole lunch was wasted. In a way it was not only the lunch but also the love and affection that I used to waste.
On Sundays, routines were a bit different. I used to wake up by 7 o’clock and the day started with cursing Rangoli for showing black and white songs. After that I again go back to bed and try to finish my remaining dreams. For my surprise, mom never used to tell me what to do on holidays because she thought it was time for me to enjoy a bit after the hectic weekdays. For her the weekdays and weekends were same. No holiday for her, all 365 or sometimes 366 days were working days for her. She never took any rest.
I still remember, whenever I used to go on a “bhuk hartal” because of my stubbornness, she used to cry and used to call me again and again for lunch. Today it’s a Sunday. I am still on bed; I have got no more dreams to finish off. I don’t want to get up. I am feeling too lazy to make the same noodles as breakfast. I will get up by 2 o’clock and probably skip my breakfast and if possible lunch also. Now I know how difficult it is to make different and delicious food daily. I want mom to call me again, but I can’t hear her anymore. I still think all this is a dream and she is still there somewhere around. I close my eyes again and again just finish this never ending dream. I just want to open my eyes and find mom in front of me. I just want to stop dreaming.
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